


Head Like A Hole

by PaxVobis



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: :), Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Borderline Personality Disorder, Couch Sex, Creampie, Dark Ship, Dom Toki, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Hair-pulling, Lube, M/M, Magnus POV, Murder Kink, Muscles, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Licking, Orders, Power Dynamics, Rape Fantasy, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Season/Series 04, Self-Destruction, Sex Toys, Sloppy Makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 16:20:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12844926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxVobis/pseuds/PaxVobis
Summary: The band has just broken up, and Toki is being extra impulsive.  When he moves on Magnus, already deep into his careful machinations, there's no way to go but down.aka Pre-Doomstar Magnus takes it.R18+ Only, Very Explicit.





	Head Like A Hole

**Author's Note:**

  * For [steevee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steevee/gifts).



When the band broke up, Toki ran.  It was... useful, for Magnus, that it had happened this way.  He could not have planned this development, and yet – knowing as he did a shadow of Pickles, of Nathan – he was not surprised to find out what had happened.  If anyone was going to break up the band then it was going to be Pickles.  That much was clear to him, albeit only now, in hindsight, did he see the motions that had come before.

Nonetheless it served his purpose.  Toki wanted to talk about it, but he didn’t want to talk about it – that is, he stated aloud that he did not, and then it crept into everything he said.  His phone calls to Magnus were sporadic and desperate, laughing to him about the childishness of the others and practically begging to hear something positive rather than the bickering that surrounded him.  Duly, Magnus delivered.  _Yeah, they’re always like this, man, trust me.  Don’t let them get to your head, you see what I mean?_

He would never say it _you can trust me_ but like Toki’s desperation, it was implicit in everything he said.  An echo, _trust me, man_ – repeated enough, it was bound to become true.  Magnus’... friend... ally... thought his methods misguided, though he used fewer words than that to express it, at stark contrast to a seething underbelly of Revengencers that worshipped his boasting about the kid’s manipulation as sheer genius.  Magnus brushed it off, more preoccupied with the praise than the opinions of a man who smelt like the flesh scum at the top of an acid bath (he liked to imagine) and yet he was aware that even his fans had words to say behind his back.  _Sleeping with the enemy_. 

That was the thing about backstabbing.  Once you’d put eight inches between someone else’s shoulder blades, you couldn’t reasonably believe there was no one sharpening their weapon just for you.

What?  No.  He wasn’t _projecting_.  It was just the truth.

Toki had that slipperiness to him as well, not unlike Magnus in that way – indulging in mischief with Murderface’s photos, for instance.  He had sent them to Magnus, much to Magnus’ disgust.  Did being in Dethklok just _make_ you get ugly?   Were Toki’s beautiful days limited?  Skwisgaar had always looked like that and so didn’t count, although his face looked more and more like a rubber mask as the years went on.  Now Magnus hadn’t told him to put them online, that was all Toki – a traitor.  But so long as Magnus did not turn his back, there was nowhere to stick him.

As the unrest in the band worsened, so did Toki lean harder on Magnus’ dim but stable presence in his life.  What had been a one-off visit to Magnus in California for social... things... romps... hangouts, a weekend that felt distinctly teenage to Magnus in its superficiality, the way he was dragged around a dead mall closed off by Dethklok’s minions for Toki’s protection but rendering the place chilling, silent, became another, and another, a dead rooftop bar, a dead private room in a club, the only other guests strippers again dead, dead behind the eyes.  Like Toki killed everything he touched.  And when he spoke to Magnus, it was like he was speaking to someone else.  In-jokes Magnus could never have understood.  Chastised playfully when he didn’t. 

And every time feeling like he was having a heart attack, being so closely watched by Dethklok’s _people._   Eyes on him behind executioner’s hoods.  A metronome ticking away inside him, measuring out his patience into portions he could spend – or the thudding of his blood in his ears, his face stretched into a smile as he watched Toki laughing at some dumb joke, the strippers giggling around them.  Magnus, too, saw someone else looking back at him.  But he’d never dare let the thought form within him.

This time was different.  The crux of it.  Started the same, dead bars, dead girls, executioners.  Toki got drunk, so did Magnus.  He had to drink with Toki so as not to arouse suspicion, but Magnus was wary of pushing his limits; it fucked with his meds, number one, any drink at all beyond a wine with dinner, and number two, when Magnus was drunk he let his guard down.  He _knew_ he did this, he knew _all of this_ and still tonight he did it, one glass too deep, one shot on Toki’s card that he shouldn’t have accepted and yet smiling did. 

And the reason he resented it was not about what it heralded, _knives_ and _backs_ and so on, but rather how little he’d questioned taking it.  Just smiling at the kid, agreeing, _yes_ he would like another, _yes_ why not!  Hadn’t even thought of it.  And then he was drunk, and Toki was _hammered_ , and the girls were laughing at Magnus’ hand sliding up the back of a skirt, his long nail down the seam of a stocking, without even thinking about it.  It was almost, almost – _enjoyable_ , you know.  Toki blurting out his anecdotes of orgies in the back of limos, of the price of fame which was, which appeared to be, you could have whoever you wanted whenever you wanted, you could do anything you wanted, wherever you wanted, and no one even batted an eyelid.  And Toki, in his youth, seemed to know nothing else. 

Magnus, curling his hand around a stripper’s slender thigh as he listened, had not had sex in over a year.  There had been other things on his mind.  And like the drink, it tended to be a symptom of worse things, when he found himself again with a stranger in a dark room, and in the aftermath wondering why he had done it at all, made himself so vulnerable for so much... nothing.  He had made a point not to pursue it.

Toki had no such hesitations.  Not that Magnus was comparing himself to Toki, you know, or he was but, uh – it didn’t matter, anyway.  This night they had been drunk and sex had been all around him, and then suddenly the night was over, and as Toki was being goaded in returning to the helicopter he said to Magnus, drunk, “Does not want to goes home – _ja,_ I knows dis goods place, all dese pretty wimmins, and dey gots dis, fishes tank as well - - ”

But Magnus’ patience only stretched so far.  He said it nicely; he was drunk, he was tired, he was going home to sleep.  He had collected his jacket and made to leave past the klokateers and down the dark, narrow staircase of the club, abandoned by the hoods to vanish into the night.  The desperation had flashed across Toki’s open face, barely caught by him, but he caught it all the same.  “Then I stays with you?”

Asking before he justified it, seeing Magnus’ hesitation.  “I don’ts wanna hellies dis lates anyways, ams tireds, now you says it, yep.”  He turned to the hoods, explaining to them rather than Magnus, who hadn’t even said yes, “I stays with him, is fine, I come homes tomorrows, yeah?”

And he looked back at Magnus, begging him for it.  Magnus took him in a moment.  Couldn’t believe it.  Asking to be alone with him, trusting him.  The fucking idiot.

“We cans watch dis, Twins Peak you tellin’s me about!  Yeah, oh man!  Gonsa be so much _funs!_ ” tried Toki, attempting to sweeten the deal, and Magnus bowed his head slightly.

“Fine,” he conceded and turned away, the patter of Toki’s excited boot steps at his heels,  “But I only got a couch for you, okay?  It’s a, uh... small place, hope you’re all right with that, buddy.”

And Toki was _so fine_ with that.  _Damn_. 

Magnus let them be driven there by the hoods, feigning nonchalance and not even looking behind when they disembarked on the other side of town at his apartment block, but he was aware that it was only Toki’s footsteps that followed him – closely, eagerly.  Standing in the elevator, Magnus slumped his shoulder against on the mirrored wall and watched the younger man as he tried  to chat to him about Twin Peaks; and here reflected a thousand times over, and Magnus too, standing opposite him and behind him simultaneously in every fracture.  Magnus hated how haggard he looked, the cuts of grey to him.  Beside Toki, who was already shrugging off the worst of his intoxication, he looked like an old man.

Toki had reached for the top floor button when they’d gotten in, and Magnus had laughed at his naïveté.  A penthouse, for _Magnus?_   He hadn’t done poorly after Dethklok, no thanks to them, but that was a little _rich_ coming from Toki of all fucking people.  The apartment was a few floors down from the top, the bronze number 18 at the end of a twisting hall, and – as soon as he’d let Toki inside to stand in the darkness of the standing lamp looking cluelessly about – definitely a bachelor pad, space just for one, no posters, no frames on the wall.  Just Magnus.

He had never felt so aware of the fact as seen Toki standing there now.  A face Magnus had seen a million times on the television that faced them, big and black, or the screen of his computer now imposed upon his personal space as if it had been badly photoshopped in, so jarring was it to see. 

“Wowee!” the kid declared, and dropped straight down on Magnus’ couch, all dark upholstery, and snared one of the two big old red embroidered cushions Magnus’ mother had forced upon him once upon a visit up from Fresno to hold close to his chest - likewise the tapestry rug underfoot had come from her, gave the place a bit of charm.  Apparently it would not kill him to have a ‘woman’s touch’ around the place, and granted he had not dropped dead just yet.  He tried to shrug off the enthusiasm, thanking his stars the place was relatively clean pending rent inspection, and prowled straight through to the kitchenette.

Toki stretched his body out from the couch, his feet not quite reaching the television cabinet opposite him filled with videos and DVDs, teetering in piles behind the screen and against the wall, a stack of players plugged haphazardly into the back.  When Magnus had dropped his keys on the bench and glanced back, Toki was straining to read the titles.  “What we watchin’s, you gots dis, Twins Peak...” he heard, and rolled his eyes.

“Sure, whatever.  You want a beer, Toki?”  Of course he did.  Magnus already had the fridge door open to get him one, otherwise depressingly occupied by a loaf of bread wrapped in plastic, a block of cheese, and a bottle of mayo, selected absent-mindedly so that Magnus could kid himself he actually ate at home when this was transparently not the case.  Magnus moved slowly to disguise just how hard his heart beat in his ears, and when he looked around again, Toki was knelt on the rug, inspecting his collection, and the whole scene looked so... _fake._  

But it was real.  He was here.  Once something had happened once, it was infinitely more likely to happen again; he had this bird in his _hand_.  Now what did Toki think of all this... his hair curtaining around his face as he craned forward and walked his fingers over the titles, his eyes wide.  No, thought Magnus, returning to him and holding out the beer by the neck until Toki noticed and snatched it, thanking him in slurred, broken English.  Kid was just glad not to be home.

“What is, _Firsk_?” asked Toki, pulling a colourful VHS from one of the teetering stacks and holding it up to Magnus where he stood, looming over him with his own beer pressed to his lips.  Magnus’ eyebrow twitched, the faintest smile to him.

“It’s a gay porno, Toki.”  He watched as Toki frowned at it, interrogating the cover for its secrets, for what this _meant._   Flustered.  Magnus smiled at it, sat himself slowly on the couch by him.  “They don’t have those at Mordhaus?”

“No, ams not...” Confusion.  Magnus sipped his beer and studied the younger man curiously.  He was a beautiful boy, once you got over the potato nose; exquisitely pale and creamy soft skin, and the silken hair a crowning feature, so well cared for by teams, by _people_ , and the way his arm muscles strained the ring of his t-shirt’s sleeves.  But most of all his idiocy, his simplicity.  That dumb twink kind of thing... that he didn’t know his own allure.  Had no mastery of his charm.  Let people like Magnus close.

“The guy’s a murderer,” explained Magnus, tilting his beer to point at the VHS, “90s.  From a book.  He hooks up with gay guys and then he kills them.  Lust killings... erotophonophilia.  It’s interesting.”

“Big word,” said Toki, turning the case over in his hands.  Magnus hummed in approval.

“Soundtrack by Coil... Lee Ranaldo.  You know who he is, Toki?” he asked, and Toki shook his head, silent. 

“Sonic Youth.  One of the best guitarists of our generation - - ” Magnus paused, taking him in again.  “My generation.”  And took a sip of his beer.

Toki replaced the VHS and slugged at the bottle Magnus had given him, disguising his own nervousness.  “You likes dis, erotono...” he said, investigating the other labelled cases, drawn to the bright colours, and Magnus stretched out his long legs where he sat.  In the small space, they almost reached the TV cabinet.  His boot heels nudging thick black cables that crossed over the rug, from amps, stacked beside the door, to his guitar on display by his computer desk.

“It’s interesting,” he said again, and Toki glanced up at him.

“Ams dis what, Twins Peak, about alsos...”

That gave Magnus cause to chuckle.  “Y’know, yeah.  Yeah, it is.  Now _there’s_ a theme,” he said, and Toki watched him, wide-eyed.

“Dat ams, funny...” he said, and Magnus grinned at him.

“But I am not the only one who likes Twin Peaks.” 

Not that Toki would know.  That was obvious, how off-zeitgeist the kid was.  He sat on the floor awkwardly, his legs folded under him, and looked around – from VHSes to Magnus’ elaborate computer set up, his messy desk, his Les Paul – and his eyes on that made Magnus’ skin prickle with a smothered... something.  Something unplaceable. 

“You think bout dis... a lot?” asked Toki when he reached Magnus again, the older man slumped down in his seat and stewing in his drunkenness, and Magnus raised an eyebrow.

“About what?”

“About killin’s people... for sex.”  There was a fear in his face, but a curiosity too.  Not the way Magnus had foreseen tonight going.  A lot of room to fuck up.  His heart beating in his ears again, like he was holding his breath at the bottom of a swimming pool.

“I dunno, Toki.  Do you?” he lied, since he knew.  Toki paused.  Thought.  You could see it on his face, the way he rolled his blue eyes, chasing information inside his empty head.

“Uhhh, yeah.  I guess I reads some things.”  Magnus smiled at the revelation, watching as Toki got to his feet again.  “Sometime wit’ de groupies... ams fun to thinks ‘bout.  Tells dem jokes ‘bout it, y’know?  Ehh, ams Toki Wartooth... dey wants ya ta be brutals, y’know?  Chicks, dey wants to be... scares.  Y’know?”

“Yeah, I getcha,” said Magnus, looking up at him.  Toki was still uneasy, sitting beside him on the couch with none of the blasé, kiddishness of before.  And sure.  He seemed like a good kid.  It probably scared him, a bit, to think like that – even surrounded by that brutality.  There had to be a way to turn this around and calm him, though – put on Twin Peaks, maybe.

“It’s okay, buddy.  They’re just thoughts, y’know.  Games,” said Magnus, smiling kindly, and he reached across to pat Toki’s knee and squeeze it affirmingly.  Physical contact like this, micro-contact, had been part of the plan since Day One; so far, it was working.  He felt closer to Toki than anyone, in years – carefully crafted.  Yeah.  “Stories, y’know.  They don’t mean anythin’.”

Toki looked at his hand and was silent for a minute.

“You know, I think it’s just a human thing, to think about that, right?  Like it’s hardwired into us, as animals, y’know – ” Magnus stopped mid-anxious theory as Toki put his hand over Magnus’ on his knee just as he went to draw it back.  The hot clammy palm over his froze Magnus, and he fought not to react to it.  Toki’s weirdness was nothing new.  This must have just been, right... just another way he was fucked up... another way fame messed with your head.

“Cuz when you think about it...” continued Magnus, smiling anxiously, “It’s only, like, relatively recently that we ain’t... had to...”  It would have been easier if Toki wasn’t just looking at him.  Staring at him, as if he was listening closely to everything Magnus had to say and yet not hearing a word.  Magnus swallowed, pulled a strained smile, and rubbed his knee fondly beneath the guy’s gentle hand.  “Yeah.”

“Does you thinks about it, dis, gay shit,” said Toki suddenly, his voice low, “A lot.  Does you thinks bout dat?”  And Magnus froze in his gaze.

“... Yeah,” he said eventually, his voice weak and nervous.  He didn’t feel the need to expand.  What did this even... mean...

Toki looked down at his hand, considering this reply, and then moved it gently, guiding it beneath his palm down his inside thigh.  Magnus stared at it, his hand suddenly resting on the tight warm denim inches from Toki’s crotch, realising only now what was happening and unable to compute why.  Why was it happening.  What had he done, to have this happen to him – what had he done... right.

“Uh,” he said, and Toki looked up at him, big dumb blue eyes.

“Is okay?” he asked, and Magnus panicked internally.  He nodded.  Toki looked relieved, scooted over towards him slightly, his hand sliding further inwards as he closed the distance between them.  “Is okay... Um, I don’ts wonna... watch dis, Twins Peak, um... I just wants to, y’know... pals around, y’know... if ya likes.  You’ms goods friend, Magnus.”

Magnus nodded, dazed, watching as Toki – the beer bottle held between his knees – daintily unbuttoned his own fly, just straight up did that, he did that, right there next to him.  Magnus’ hand still resting, paralysed, on his thigh.  “You’re a good... friend... too, Toki,” he choked, and Toki had pulled his half-stiff cock out of his fly, just like that.  Magnus stared at it, because what else was he meant to do. 

Shit, kid wasn’t small, was he.

“Okays, I think we cans be buddies.  _Ands_ just... I wonna.”  Suddenly Toki’s large hands were on his face, pulling him close, and then he was being kissed, not even trying to shrug it off.  The silence of his apartment was overwhelming against the weirdness, the warm lips of his replacement pressed against his own, like with his doppelganger – Magnus folded to it as Toki held him still, his other hand rubbing down Magnus’ chest now, feeling below the drape of his open shirt to his skinny ribs and furred gut as Magnus clawed his thigh anxiously.

He felt the seeking hand start to undo his own fly, and Magnus could have died from the stress of it.  He couldn’t turn Toki away, or else threaten what he’d fought so hard for.  But if he did this, it could only... it was so easy to ruin.  And then there was his body, leaning into the touch – it had been so long since he’d been touched, and kissed, and to meet someone his equal, someone young and strong, the smell of male skin filling his nose as they kissed deeper, the tense muscles of a man’s body. 

Toki’s large hand palmed his crotch and brought a groan from Magnus, stretching his own fingers to clutch the young man’s open fly.  This had happened so fast, he couldn’t even _think_ of it.  Changed so fast.  Barely daring to break their kiss, Magnus stretched down to place his beer at his feet, and then turned his body in to Toki, his hands on his sides, running up under the man’s shirt.  He wouldn’t take this too far.  Just jack off with him.  That was fine, right; Dethklok probably did that all the time.  That would explain his boldness. 

But number fucking one, he was going to get his hands on those exquisite abs, that he’d seen on screens for years and years, maybe jerked it himself to in some lonely, bitter night past, god, who _hadn’t_.  Now he’d have them for real.  Jack off onto them for real.  Fuck!  That was a dirty fucking, filthy thought.  God, how cathartic, how pleasurable, ruining the thing they loved like that.  It made him fucking hard.

When Magnus pushed his hands up under Toki’s shirt, he could feel the muscles undulate beneath his palms.  Toki’s hands searched him in return, pushed the shirt off his shoulders until Magnus pulled it off himself, and then Toki clutched at his sides, his scrawny hips, and pushed his pelvis against Magnus’ on the couch, their long legs tangled and their kiss hard.  Magnus was breathless; he struggled even to kiss Toki as the younger man’s hand groped roughly at his erection through his briefs. 

“Fuck, Toki,” croaked Magnus, but when he pulled back from Toki, the guy was just smiling at him.  Kinda distantly, real weird.  They were opposite each other on the couch now, one of Magnus’ legs folded up beneath him and the other off the side with the arm at his back, Toki mirroring him with his knees against Magnus’ thighs.  Magnus’ breath was heavy as they paused a moment, Toki clearly fine, and he stared at the guy’s stiff dick pointing from the front of his jeans now – until Toki took advantage of the lull to strip his shirt off, his pale muscles lit ghastly and vampiric in the dull light of the standing lamp in the corner.

And then he really lost his breath.  Oh, _god._   For a second, Magnus even forgot it was Toki he was looking at, too caught up on the surreality of that _body_.  This kinda shit didn’t happen to Magnus, this kinda shit only happened in pornos.  Magnus hadn’t even been _near_ a body like that since... mm!  Never mind, ancient history!  And now when Toki reached for him again, smiling benevolently, going in for another kiss, Magnus recoiled out of sheer disbelief, leaning back against the couch arm and leaving Toki to swoon in space.

“Okays?” he asked, looking cluelessly at Magnus with his dick in his fist and his muscles bulging, and Magnus gulped, looked him up and down again, and nodded.

“Yeah, yeah.  Fuck.”  Magnus laughed self-consciously, but his timidness only drew Toki on, the younger man’s kisses pressed then to his throat, his hair draped against Magnus’ chest, his whiskers brushed on his neck.  Magnus breathed in his hair, smelling of expensive shampoo, and ran his hand weakly down Toki’s chest as his other fished out his aching cock and gave in to stroke it.  This was fine.  This was going to be f – ah!  And he hissed as Toki pinched his neck with his lips, hoping for no marks tomorrow.  At least he kissed.  At least that much was nice.

“Oh, Toki,” groaned Magnus as Toki sank lower, kissing his collarbones, his breath hot on Magnus’ skin, and he felt dumb and idiot for just taking it, leaning back beneath him with his hand run through Toki’s smooth hair and rubbing his cock with increasing fervour.  When the young man’s lips touched his nipple, he abruptly arched back, clutching a handful of Toki’s hair in his shock.  “Fuck!” But Toki was not easily dissuaded once he’d hit a sweet spot.  He pressed in.

“Shit, fuck!”  Magnus beat wildly as Toki tightened his lips around his nipple, screwing his hand into the hair he clutched as he suffered with it.  “ _Yes_ , shit, do that.”  He felt so dumb, reduced like this to panting and hissing and pumping up the pressure in his loins like he was fit to burst, but it was... fine, Toki said it was fine, it was probably a Dethklok thing, it was – “ _Augh, Toki!_ ” – fine.  God, no, it was more than that, even _good_ , crushing Toki to his chest with his clutching arm and his sharp teeth and hot tongue grazed against the tight point of his nipple.  And then he was just gonna... cum on those abs, _fuck!_   He’d never felt tighter in his life.

“Toki, Toki!  Fuck!”  Magnus wrenched Toki off him as the bubble broke within him, pushing the young man back with his hand locked in his gorgeous hair.  Toki stared back, close, alarmed by the rough treatment and Magnus gazing straight into his eyes with a one-end intensity, much much much too much.  He barely even winced when Magnus pulled on his hair and hissed sharply through his teeth, screwing up his face with his lip curled into a tight snarl and his fist slammed back against his balls, his cock pulsing.  Toki only looked down when the warm rope of cum hit his belly, then another, the rest down Magnus’ hand as he shuddered against the couch arm.

He took a while to recover.  It had been an intense one, just left him swooning, and “Damn,” said Magnus as he surfaced again, releasing Toki and taking in the mess he’d made as he pushed his curls back from his sweating brow.  Even in the dim light he could see it, the white jelly on Toki’s muscles, and just the sight of it made him light headed.  Toki touched his stomach, pulling the skin taut and avoiding touching Magnus’ slime, and he inspected it curiously before immediately forgetting it, moving forward on his knees over Magnus to kiss him again.  Magnus folded, his mouth feeling open and raw post-orgasm, and as Toki ground his hips against Magnus’, he felt his own warm jism drip from Toki’s skin onto his belly.

“Okays,” mumbled Toki, smiling against his mouth as Magnus shook under him and the slime was smeared between their bodies, “We gets to fuck now?”

Magnus stilled beneath him, even as Toki kissed and nipped his earlobe.  “What?” he asked, and Toki drew back, nearly straddling Magnus’ lap with his cock poking into his belly, his arms straight on either side of Magnus’ body as he leaned him back over the couch arm.

Toki smiled at him, sweet and greedy.  “I gons fuck you ass, duh,” he purred, and then took Magnus apart with seeking, gluttonous eyes, adding through his smile, “Olds man.”  Magnus stared  back up at him as the younger man’s eyes picked at his body.  That wasn’t a joke.  Magnus’ hands twisted on Toki’s waistband awkwardly as he thought through his options, Toki leaning in to kiss his face again.  He’d already blown his load, not realising the blueprint for the evening held in Toki’s mind.  What was left for him to offer?  Besides... sucking it... somehow, that felt strange, imbued with power, when he thought of Toki.

Though Magnus had a few, say, things in a box under his bed he’d experimented with, it had been over a decade since he’d last taken a dick and the box itself was gathering dust.  Not due to lack of options; after a brief experimental phase in the 90s, Magnus had decided that was not for him and ceased entirely.  It wasn’t that it felt _bad_ , not _physically_ , in fact that was very agreeable if you had the time to search it out, another kind of orgasm that made your whole body weak, like you just released your hands from where they clasped white-knuckled at reality, and you were flat on your back, palms up, _fuck_ , a real religious cum, something real... Jesus in it. 

That was when he was alone with the, say, _things_ , he could get there.  When he was with someone else, Magnus was in a blind panic for every second there was part of another’s body inside him, not a Jesus feeling, a fucking _god money_ feeling, his hands screwed into the covers like the bones within them would break.  His mind a huge blank hole.  There had been times since when it had reverberated through his body, a need for it, but it was need in the same way invisible cuts would blaze across his skin, that imagined knives would shoot from his mind and eviscerate others, enemies, himself. 

And true.  That had been more often of late.  Part of that was dropping his meds in favour of the dexamphetamines alone, whatever kept him sharpened and defended.  With Toki stretching across his body, the hard head of his cock pressing into Magnus’ stomach, he could nearly feel it parting him like that.  His breath slowing as he gathered his thoughts – of the basement in Florida.  Of the Metal Masked Assassin, a tower of rancid flesh and muscle.  Of a great and vile shame at what he’d just done, his hands run over Toki’s smooth skin, their faces pressed together and breathing each other and the strong, musty smell of semen between them. 

What did it matter, you know?  He’d already fucked up.  He’d already have to pretend this hadn’t happened next time they saw each other, and he was already writhing inside from the guilt of what was to become of this sweet kid.  Genuinely a sweet, dumb ass kid.  _God, it isn’t your fault_ , he thought as he lowered his head and gulped, his hand smooth down Toki’s side, _you’re just like me._   A good victim.  Only Magnus was his own predator, the one that kicked him into that hole, and once he was down there anyone could just shit on him.  And like that Dethklok, who had seen him weak and gone in to tear down everything that was left.  Magnus did not show that vulnerability anymore.  But he thought – now – he thought – with what he was going to do – then there was no harm in doing it.  In turning his back on Toki.  No harm except what he was doing to himself.  And he needed, _needed_ , to feel punished right now.

His face pressed against Toki’s, Magnus nodded.  It took longer to summon the words, but they pressed out of him with more confidence than he had had before: “Okay.  Okay.  Lemme wash off this shit first though, buddy.”

Toki sat back, beaming, and quickly slid off of his lap.  “Okays!  I waits for ya.  You gots stuff?”

Stuff?  Magnus got up slowly, looking down at Toki curiously as he hitched his jeans up on his skinny waist, and nearly blacked out to see the guy casually mopping up the cum on his chest with his discarded t-shirt.  Fucking hell, that was still gonna be on there tomorrow.  “Oh,” he realised, “Like – yeah, yeah.  I got shit in my room.”

“Good!”

Magnus left him beaming idiotically on the couch and skulked to the tiny bathroom, just past the kitchenette.  His face looked haggard and shit in the mirror.  _God._   He really wanted to fucking cut.  _God!_   As if this wasn’t bad enough. 

As he washed the slime from the fur on his chest at the sink, he heard Toki moving bare-footed through the apartment: “Is dis you room, in heres?  Ooh...” and he didn’t bother to reply.  He’d obviously found it.  Magnus hadn’t really prepared to take it up the ass today, _you know_ , but it wasn’t like he fucking ate these days.  Ha!  Ha!  He could probably sort something out with the detachable showerhead as an emergency measure – this was embarrassing enough without shitting on the guy’s dick – and he subtly closed the bathroom door and did so, hoping Toki wasn’t like... putting his sticky fingers all over his books or something while he waited.

Magnus felt a little ill from all the probing when he emerged, his jeans abandoned in favour of a black (of course) towel, and when he got to the bedroom the light was on and Toki lolling around stupid on his bed, his boots abandoned down the side.  Something he’d never thought he’d see, the little shit looking like he’d dropped out of the sky into Magnus’ very lair, the spider’s belly.  Another Spartan room with a small window, a view of other buildings, skyscrapers cutting through the night and stars peeking around them, visible without; for Magnus, a double bed that filled most of the room, a closet with a sliding door, a bookcase, a record player.  Side tables with lamps, an alarm clock; no photos, no posters, nothing.  Everything in neutral, earthy tones. 

The overall effect was that it felt like a hotel room, barely lived in, and that was not far from the truth.  Toki looked like a guest, flipping over on the bed to look up at Magnus with a grin, shirtless and beautiful, god.  Magnus frowned at him and closed the door behind himself, as though he didn’t want the house to know what was happening in here.  The guy’s confidence put him ill at ease.  Better take him down a peg before he got too cocky.

“You’re real proud of yourself, huh,” he observed, leaning back on the door with his arms crossed, and Toki nodded emphatically up at him.

“Mmmm-hmmm!”

Magnus curled his lip at him, almost smirking.  “Yeah, look at ya.  Not a worry in you.  Most people would be intimidated, Toki,” he said, and stroked his beard as he observed him – this was true, most people were intimidated, if only by Magnus’ sheer height and scariness, but then just _asking_ to fuck his ass showed off such considerable balls that Magnus didn’t know where to start with the guy.  “Don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

Toki turned over on the bed, his muscles flexing peachy and smooth under the yellow light.  “Ha ha, what?”

Hmm.  Magnus decided to ignore that and turned off the light instead, plunging them both into darkness save for the blue moonlight through the window.  Toki blinked in the dark, his bright eyes grey.  “Why you gons turns off de lights?  You amsn’t dem fatty or nothin’.  Bit hairsy though...” he asked, and Magnus just loomed, approaching the bed.

“I like the dark.”  If Magnus was going to go down, he was going to go down on his terms, and that meant obscured, suffering.  His chest as though his heart would break from it, as if his skin had been tanned stiff, as he stood over the bed and slid his fingers through the knot on his towel, dropping it to the floor.  Toki lolled, looked at his cock, and then up at him with that silly smile.  As he climbed onto the mattress on his knees, it felt like he was offering himself to be slaughtered, in some violent, violating ritual; so how insulting that the god be this stupid, beastly young man, reaching his hands out and grabbing at the air in Magnus’ direction.  How repulsive.  Magnus should have been the butcher.

But his cock didn’t even stir.  God, he was getting old.

Up close to Toki again, Magnus wasn’t sure what to do, how to commence.  His impulse was violence, to grab and choke and drag, to go down only with a fight that Toki would certainly win, stronger than him in all things but will, or even escape, just claw his way out of this situation like a trapped animal.  But it wasn’t the same – it was a different part of him that wanted to escape, not the conscious part, and there would be a time for violence in the future, a time to treat Toki’s swollen ego the way it deserved, hold it down and spit on it.  Now instead he was required to forfeit – sometimes you had to forfeit in order to gain control. 

He felt hideously exposed, naked in front of Toki, the other man’s hand running over his hairy thigh as he moved across the bed, keeping a keen eye on the other man.  Even looking away so that he could reach under the bed on the far side and snag the shoebox from underneath, Toki’s gaze on his back made his skin crawl.

Suddenly, Toki was at his shoulder.  “What is?” he squeaked, and  Magnus glared sideways at him, hung over the side of the bed with his hands in the open box.

“Stuff,” he growled, and Toki’s eyes lit up.

“ _Dildos._ ”

“Okay, yes.”  Magnus instead removed a small bottle of lubricant, holding it up so Toki could see it.  “This is what I wanted, though.  Dunno if I have any rubbers in here...”

As he was feeling around the rest of the box, finding only discarded foil wrappers, Toki lunged for the black rubber toy, hooking it with a finger through the ring at its base and pulling it up like a fish on a line.  “Let me sees!  Ooh!” he cooed, and Magnus immediately snatched it back off him.

“Toki, man, what the fuck!  You don’t just grab another man’s... fuckin’... ass... probe or whatever, dude!” he snapped, and Toki looked hurt and clueless.  “God!  Do you have any rubbers?”

“But I’ms fucksin’ yous ass so... I don’t cares.”  Toki reached for the toy again, Magnus scooting over the bed out of his reach.

“No.  No!  Dude!  Rubbers!” 

Toki stared at him, retreated back against the pillows at the head of the bed, lithe and naked and clutching the probe and lube to his chest desperately.  He seemed to think of it, and then just shrugged at Magnus.  “Don’ts use ‘em?” Toki offered, and Magnus gave him a worried frown.

“Aw, buddy...”

“Ours manager usuallys... sorts dat stuff out.  Goils dat don’t needs, y’know.” 

Magnus’ frown grew gentler, his shoulders raising defensively.  “Your manager ain’t here,” he said, watching for Toki’s vulnerability, but he showed none.

“Ja, well... I don’ts care, dunno,” he said, and Magnus looked down at himself, at the objects in his hands, and then nodded docilely.  Okay, well... that probably meant Toki was fine.  Old Chuck was too paranoid to let the kid out of control, and Dethklok had secrets – ways of curing things – that Magnus couldn’t even imagine.  It was always a bit nasty, ass fucking without a rubber, but if Toki wanted ass slime on his dick then that was his prerogative, you know?  Whatever.

Magnus studied Toki, considering how to lure him into action.  The guy looked beautiful, on his knees there with his poised, muscular body and his open jeans, his bare feet curled behind him on the bed.  His cock had shrunk in waiting for Magnus, and – meeting Toki’s steady gaze and placing aside the toy and lube – as Magnus got onto his knees again and moved closer, he elected that that was probably the place to start.

Coming close now.  He could hear Toki’s breath, the whistle it got when he breathed through his nose.  This was a long time coming, and the sluggishness of it had Magnus tense, twitching.  A feeling of being slowly eviscerated.  He broke eye contact when he was almost chest to chest with Toki again, leaning to his side to press a slow kiss to his neck, his hands gliding down the smooth, taut skin of Toki’s sides.

By the second kiss, on the man’s collarbone, open mouthed and languid, Toki’s hands were on Magnus’ body, running through his chest hair as though exploring him, feeling the strange, soft fur, and his head rocked against Magnus’ to breathe his curly hair.  He heard Toki breathe, “Yeah,” right next to his ear, hot in his curls.  Magnus descended.

When his tongue ran over Toki’s nipple, the other guy stopped him – not with a shove away but rather one downwards, pushing Magnus’ head down with a sharp breath, Magnus faced with undulating abdominals and the bleachy smell of his own semen lingering on the skin.  He was unfussed, licked them, delighting in the opportunity to be close to a hard body like that.  He could see Toki in his mind, in the basement in Florida, free from the bonds they intended for him and ramming Magnus’ face into the filthy concrete, taking him dry in punishment, and Magnus now, here, pressed to Toki’s stomach, gave a sharp gulp at the disturbing image and threw himself off lingering on it by putting his lips around the erect cock just beneath him.

This way everything could just be that, the weight of swollen flesh, the taste – which was clear and clean on Toki’s crotch, a scent of a healthy body excited.  It was a repenting act, to let his lying tongue give the man some pleasure.  Though Toki could never know the purpose of it, of letting him reign just once.  A feeling of balance, of virtuous suffering, only heightened as Toki disrespected Magnus’ artful sucks and manoeuvrers and jacked straight into his mouth to a smothered choke, his hands pushing Magnus’ head, holding him down.

Magnus clutched the covers, trying to keep his head against the choking, the smothering, the heat.  He could handle this – he had handled this many times before.  The symbol of it – of Toki – barely made it different, it was just a cock – fuck, and hadn’t he been choking on Dethklok’s cock for a decade now.  Above him, Toki made strange, high-pitched noises and sprawled and squirmed, his cock shoved this way and then that over Magnus’ tongue as he struggled to follow it.  Begging mentally, _god, stay still!_   Until Toki yanked him up by the hair, panting and messy, and grinned at him, sharp in the moonlight. 

“Boy, you’s _slut..._ real freaky...” whispered Toki, his eyes gleaming, “But I wonna fucks now.”  And he shoved Magnus aside, squirming on the bed as he stripped off his jeans.  Magnus sat back against the pillows again, thinking maybe he should be trying to prepare himself, but his heart was in his throat with terror and a lust for the pain, and his eyes were on Toki’s exposed body, his muscular white legs, his tight ass.  _Jesus_.  There was a beautiful sight.  This time Magnus did feel the pulse and swoon of his arousal, sneaking back into him as Toki turned back to him, locking on his eyes as he moved towards Magnus on hands and knees.  Once it had taken Magnus barely any time to rise again, a rarity in his sex.  Now days... a little longer.

Toki rubbed his large hands up Magnus’ calf, smiling at him like a big cat, and then suddenly snared his ankle and dragged him backwards.  Magnus blanched, betraying a yelp of shock, tugged effortlessly flat onto his back.  Above him, Toki was still smiling, cooing, “Don’t hides from Toki,” as his hands slipped around the curve of Magnus’ side.  Before he could even think he was hoisted up, flipped onto his front as Toki giggled at him.  Immediately Toki had sprung onto him, his warm thighs straddling Magnus as he wrestled himself up onto his shoulders.

“Jesus, fuck...” groaned Magnus, then his head was seized by the scalp, Toki’s big hand buried in his tangled curls, pulling his face aside so Toki could see it as he bent over Magnus, his cock resting hot against his ass crack.

“Dun expects me to goes easies on ya, old man,” said Toki, purred through a grin close to Magnus’ ear, and then he dropped him abruptly, Magnus fighting a sad, bitter chuckle in return.  His spine tightened inside him when he heard the cap of the lube bottle snap, his breath shallow within him as he tried to look over his shoulder.  Toki sat up from his body, his tongue jutting out as he slathered absolutely every inch of his cock in lube, so much that it dripped onto Magnus’ bare thigh, rolling down the curve towards his balls as he tried not to react in disgust, to shrug his body forward and save his own cock from being crushed. 

As he raised his body from the mattress, lifting up on his elbows, Toki’s lube-wet hand slapped down on his shoulder and pushed him back down again.  “Stays down dere, I gots dis,” he said, patting Magnus’ shoulder, “Ams easier if yous just kicks it back... takes it easy.”  And then he hummed sweetly and held Magnus’ shoulder as he rocked his hips against Magnus’ ass, his cock gliding slickly between his plump, hairy ass cheeks.

Magnus shuddered at the wet, slippery feeling, moving onto his elbows again.  “I ain’t takin’ anything _easy,_ ” he growled, and then woofed in shock as Toki slammed him onto the mattress again with both hands.

“I says stays down!”  The volume Toki barked it alarmed him, hunched his ass up as though his spine would wiggle out from him to avoid this self-punishment.  Toki’s fingers burrowed in his hair, sticky with lube, and clutched a handful to pull his face sideways again.  “You listens to Toki or I'll fuckin's kills ya!  You says not easy, I gives it to ya!”

“Right,” said Magnus, looking over his shoulder at the guy.  “Are you gonna fuck me or what then.”  And Toki screwed up his face at him, slowly twisting into a smirk.

“Puts me ins ya.”  Magnus gave him a flat look, unimpressed, and Toki’s face soured again.  “I says, does it!  Or else!”

“Okay, okay, shit...” Magnus squirmed underneath Toki, feeling blindly behind him for the guy’s cock.  He got it in hand, not easily – slippery sucker – and raised his hips, his teeth gritted as he pressed the plush, slick head against his ass and sought out his anus.  Even breathing deeply, keeping himself composed, it was a difficult push – the sensation distantly familiar, but harrowingly acute as Toki leaned into his grip, his cock squeezing into the tight ring to Magnus’ hiss of discomfort.

He could hear Toki’s curious whine, leaning harder into him and slipping through his hand, that familiar, horrible, pleasurable sensory jam of penetration deepening as he pushed slowly into Magnus’ body, his cold sticky hands flat on Magnus’ back.  It was unpleasant, surreal, just the thought of Toki _inside_ him like that.  Felt like his dick was a foot long, squeezed into Magnus’ intestines, though he knew it was just his fucking ass being a stranger to these sensations, the novelty of a raw cock, skin on skin, instead of latex or a rubber toy.  It was like losing his virginity all over again, just with the shadow of what history cast in front of him – and the symbol of his entire downfall mounting him, cooing as he wiggled and rubbed his balls against Magnus’ ass.

“Dat’s good... you gots good ass ons ya,” hummed Toki, and he clutched Magnus’ ass cheeks and squeezed them in his outstretched hands appreciatively.  The extra stretch was not wonderful and Magnus gritted his teeth.  When he had envisioned humiliation and submission, he hadn’t foreseen _embarrassment._

“Thanks...”

Toki squeaked as he rocked further in, taking advantage of the way Magnus gave way just slightly as he responded to jam his cock up to its root in him and then start to drag it out again.  The man beneath him shuddered, hunching his shoulders, as the thick cock pulled against his innards.  “Fuck...” he breathed, folding his arms over his head to hide it, and Toki pushed it into him again, grinning down over him.

“Tells me ya likes it,” he goaded, falling into a slow and languid thrust, and Magnus lay still.  Oh god.  He was the orders type... Magnus was not adverse to going down, it just felt so... _silly_...

“Says it!”  The stinging slap of Toki’s hand against his ass brought Magnus out of his self-pity with a jolt, his hips jacked up again.

“Fuck!  Okay.  I like it, Toki...” he said to humour the guy, lifting his hips higher.  Until they’d jutted up, he hadn’t realised he’d been getting hard again.  “You got a good dick or whatever... yeah, it feels good...”

This was only rewarded by a harder stab, hips thrown against Magnus’ ass with a squelch of lube and skin, and Magnus grunted at the impact.  “You likes that??” came Toki’s order, and Magnus rolled his eyes, the sickening fear suspended in his head just above his total disbelief and frustration.

“Fuck... yeah, I guess...”

The hand pushed through his curls again, Toki’s other hand shoving Magnus’ arms aside so he could grab his hair and then clutching his shoulder as he thrusted into him hard enough to make the bed groan in complaint, the headboard shunting against the wall with a thud.  The couple downstairs were _not_ gonna like that.  With his body clamping down on Toki’s cock, Magnus writhed in his grip.

“I says says it!  Ain’t dats what I says!” Toki yanked on Magnus’ hair, getting a guttural chuckle for his efforts.

“Fuckin’ fine, fuckin’ fine!  I like it, _god_ , I like it!  Fuck me, you dumbass!”  Magnus snared a pillow in his hands and clutched it to his face, squeezing his fingers into it as Toki jacked into him.  Being fucked up the ass had this weird way of making you feel sick to the stomach at the same time as being indulgent and queer, it twisted you up inside and pulled you open and he was feeling it now, and the tendrils of the Fear touching his mind.  If only Toki wasn’t such a fucking brat.  At least he kept up a good pace.

“Aw, yeah.  Takes dat...” grunted Toki, and he paused a second to shift his angle, raising his straddle so he could swing a harder thrust.  And swing he did, Magnus barking in surprise as it punched into him and the bed hit the wall.

“Yeah!” Toki clutched his hair hard and fucked like a rutting dog, Magnus groaning long beneath him and squeezing the life out of the pillow clutched in his fists.  _God_ , the guy had some hips on him huh!  The lube had spread itself a bit more evenly now, aired so that it was less _wet_ and more _smooth_ , the thud of Toki’s flesh on his own distracting to hear and reverberating through his insides as the fuck became more savage.  Magnus strained to raise his hips further, his ass feeling raw and full and pulled.  Feeling sick, Toki dragging on his hair.  The thud of his fuck.  The thud of the bedhead.  _God._

When Toki paused again to readjust, Magnus already knew what was coming.  This one hit him like a stab in the gut, straight in, no courtesy for prostate or colon or fucking anything.  “Ough, god, Toki!” he barked, and Toki took that as a positive, twisting the handful of curls he held around his hand and fucking all the harder.

Magnus buried his head in the pillow, a low moan smothered as Toki grunted and whined over him.  He dared not look back up at him, nor could he with the hand that dragged on his scalp or forced it into the pillow, leaning Toki’s entire muscle weight on his head or else the palm that stabbed dull into his shoulder.  He could feel the bounce of Toki’s balls on his taint, that dreadful fucked feeling, the shame, as he realised he must have been getting close.  His own cock, warm and half-swollen, pressed hard against the sheets whenever his ass was driven back down into the mattress.

The sound Toki made was something like a pig as he neared orgasm.  Magnus thought of an old movie, a brutal early fantasy, _get them britches down.  Now squeal!_ and shivered under the hand wrung in his curls, the other clenching hard into the flesh of his shoulder.  And just as he was about to feel sick, turning his one good eye up over his shoulder to Toki’s twisted gurn above him, dumb-faced, the sweat sticking his hair to his forehead and making his muscles glisten in the moonlight cast through the window, Magnus felt what he was sure was it – a spill of heat – and Toki gave a wobbly moan that roamed freely across the octaves, and Magnus cocked his hips up towards him and rolled his head into the covers with a pleasured groan, clutching at the sheets.

"Oh, god,  _yeah_ , Toki," he murmured, his tongue feeling fat inside him as Toki’s thrusts failed back and the man crushed his hips against his ass, and he could feel the throb and pulse of the man’s cock inside him, his balls pressed pumping against his taint, and _fuck_ it was perverse and wallowing, to take that, the very _seed_ of Dethklok deep into his body.  But then the waste of it, think of that.  That his replacement would stoop to this level, like a fucking swine, rather than acquaint himself with beautiful women or even beautiful men - rather, with his mirror – there was something savagely perfect about it.  Like _you are no better than me, Toki Wartooth..._

Toki slumped over him then, lying on his back and panting hard.  “Was good...” he gasped, the last twitches dissipating from his long body, and Magnus hummed beneath him, his chest heaving as he caught his own breath.

“Yeah, was good, buddy... real good...” he mumbled, and pressed his forehead against Toki's over his shoulder, sweat upon sweat, and kissed his slick face affectionately, once, twice, enough that Toki smiled under them.  But there was only the sugary fake sweetness, like a shell, that Magnus applied when he felt nothing at all.  He watched Toki over his shoulder, the guy’s distant vulnerability, and did not care at all right then.  All he cared about was his own revulsion at the sweat, the softening dick still in his ass, the rank, sour smell of their fuck.  He stirred enough to push Toki off of him, extracting himself from the guy’s attempts to embrace and his penetration carefully, the latter more disgusting – cum down the back of the balls and the inside leg, always a fun fucking surprise.  Magnus just wiped it off with his discarded towel.  Fine, apart from the stains where it had dripped on the sheet.

As he got up, Toki reached for him pathetically, whimpering where he lay.  “I gotta clean up,” explained Magnus, crooking his eyebrow, “You should too.”  But Toki didn’t move, just dropped his hand down in defeat.

“Fine.  Take your time, man.  You’re still sleeping on the couch, though,” he warned, and stalked out, only as a token trying to hide the awkward gait from his sore ass.

A shower dealt with the sweat, the over-stimulation, cleared his head and let him get back inside it, reassert himself in his body.  Still he crouched in the foot of it, under the lukewarm water, and observed the pearly semen and trace blood that leaked from him, washed down the drain as he pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered what the fuck he had been thinking.  Blood - fucking brutal.  He shouldn't have let him go so damn hard - shouldn't have gone at all.  He wondered, what it meant to fuck your replacement - what it meant to Toki to fuck Magnus, the man he had spent all these years proving he was better than - probably easily.  But not in reality.  Would he tell Dethklok - were they out of the closet yet?  Because Magnus wasn't.  Would this happen again?  Would he let it happen if it did?  Maybe, maybe not.  At least it was better than cutting himself.

And he sat in the shower and hurt for a while longer, felt as dreadful as he wanted and pondered the semantics of it all, and by the time he returned to the bedroom, Toki was fucking asleep.  On his bed.  With all the cum and ass-dick and the fucking dildo just next to him and all.  Jesus fucking Christ.

Magnus didn’t have the heart to wake him, leaning on the doorframe to watch.  For all that, he looked so peaceful there, sprawled with his hair spread over the covers.  Let the guy sleep, have his moment of glory, whatever.  There’d be more than enough time for the rest. 

Magnus slept on the couch instead, and the next day – inexplicably – everything was normal, if slightly sweeter in tone - a softer way in how Toki treated him, as if Magnus could never hurt him, as if they were close friends, but normal.  As normal as it ever was with Toki.  And Magnus promised it would be all right.

And it would be.  For him.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos appreciated as always!


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